The military hero looked out of place in the bar. He was walking toward me and I couldn't avert his gaze. His eyes carried the look of pain, indelible experiences from his career as a military sniper.

I didn't know he was a veteran when I first met him. He looked more like a confused man in search of a fight. I was alone in a booth. He sat down across from me and began to chat as if he knew me.

My wife looked puzzled when she returned to the table and saw we had company. I could tell she was worried but after a while became engrossed in the conversation.

The man kept reproaching himself for everything he had done during the war. The confessions became more dramatic, the images more disturbing. He scanned my eyes for the first sign of judgment. When he didn't see it, he opened up like a friend.

He was convinced that he did not deserve anyone's friendship. The things he had done in war prevented him from deserving anything but suffering.

It was a story I had heard before. He had just arrived home from a tour in Afghanistan and was due to return to battle in a few months. He knew his job and his duty. He also knew what felt right and wrong.

Unfortunately, it would not be the last time I would hear a such a story.

Last week in our health section, we featured two veterans living with post-traumatic stress disorder: former Navy intelligence officer Ben Miller, and Army veteran Emily Beers.

Miller is aiming to lose more than 200 pounds with the help of former wrestler Diamond Dallas Page and his DDP yoga program.

Beers is using the demanding exercise program known as CrossFit to control her anxiety caused by PTSD.

The repercussions of these traumatic experiences are felt when the heroes return home and try to find their place back in their former life. That's when the paralyzing panic attacks, and the nightmares of war start leaking into daily life.

Miller explained it well when he told me that disabled veterans never stop serving. He said he didn't feel worthy of calling himself a "disabled veteran" because he came home in one piece. Yet he cannot find the peace of mind to enjoy a family outing. He knows it's not logical, but that is of little help.

The only thing that has helped Miller cope with his anxiety is an extended release version of Xanax, which is not covered under his VA disability benefits. The pill, he says, is only covered for active soldiers to help them fulfill their job.

The rationale is akin to injecting an injured football player with cortisone at halftime and returning him to the field — compromising his well-being for the team and the fans. When the game is over and he is home alone, he will feel the pain of the injury.

Internal injuries take longer to heal. And like in football, the real fault for most injuries does not lie in the player but in the nature of the game.